


Halloween at the Coven

by Chookers38



Series: Hook's Coven Adventures [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Demons, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Halloween, Hook'sCoven, Merpeople, Pixies, Skeletons, Transformation, Vampires, Werewolves, Zombie, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-08 05:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chookers38/pseuds/Chookers38
Summary: They've never celebrate anything in their respective world, not even their birthday or christmas. So when October arrived and with it Halloween, the Hook's Coven took the opportunity to celebrate the event together. Except it didn't turned as expected. It was their first and definitely last Halloween party they organize...right?





	Halloween at the Coven

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to hookaroo(tumblr) who did an amazing job in beta-ing the fic! (Along another one that will soon be posted ;)). It's been quite a long time that I'm working on the fic, missing each time the halloween day to post it so, finally it's ready and on time!  
Hope you'll enjoy the fun and Happy Halloween !

It all began with Old Hook. 

While the grizzled man was walking down the main corridor of the coven to join the others in the main living room, he felt as if his heart had just exploded inside his chest before the world around him disappeared. It was followed by a loud noise, and five minutes later, Rogers and the others found the old man spread on the floor in the middle of the hallway, stone dead.

No one could find an explanation for the sudden death, not even Dark Hook. However, the magic-user asked everyone to leave the room and go back to their activities while he knelt next to Old Hook’s body. As much as it pained them, the remaining versions of Hook departed, their heads hanging low after the terrible statement. All except Rogers, who stayed in the corridor when he saw that Dark Hook was still looking at Old Hook’s body. The detective slowly made his way back to the Dark One’s side.

“What do you think happened, mate?”

“I don’t know, Rogers... But something feels off…”

A shiver coursed through Rogers at the dark voice his friend had used. 

“_Off_ as in... something is missing, or it’s something more magical behind all that?” the detective asked, hoping it wouldn’t be the second option.

“I don’t know. But the nature of his death is not right…“ murmured Dark Hook before standing and starting to go in the direction of his lab.

“_Bloody Hell_,” muttered Rogers as he promptly followed the man.

“I’m going to work on what’s wrong,” stated Dark Hook. He conjured a whiteboard on the wall outside the main living room. “This will allow us to track the evolution of the situation of each of us.” As he finished explaining, he waved at the board and a name started to appear, followed by the current state of the person: 

OldHook : dead ?

Half an hour later, the board hadn’t changed. Everyone was back at their activities after they stared a moment at the board, trying to remain calm even though they all knew something bad must be going on to oblige the Dark One to “track” their states. In the lab, Dark Hook was working on solving the new puzzle that had befallen the coven. Deckhand Hook was in the kitchen with the Lieutenant, and the young lad, Tiny Hook, and KillyCat were lying on the red carpet, quietly coloring their recent artwork. Rogers was pacing around the house, waiting for news from the Dark One or Jones, who was in Storybrooke for the night. 

Because, of course, all this strange stuff had to happen on Halloween night… 

Rogers sighed for the hundredth time as the thought invaded his mind. Why had it happened now? They’d had a whole year for strange things to drop on their coven. But no, it was only during special events that they had to deal with stuff like that. Rogers stared at the whiteboard: still no changes. And still no news. Taking a deep breath, the detective decided to walk back to their bedroom and rest for a moment. _Lucky bastard,_ he thought, thinking of Jones. 

The man was out in town with his little family, having fun with all their Halloween traditions, while the rest of them were stuck here because they didn’t have family with whom they could celebrate the horror event or, in his case, they were at a private party (not that he was jealous; he wasn’t fond of those parties Tilly and Margot seemed to enjoy way too much).

Once inside the room, Rogers felt his tension melt away as he let himself flop down on the huge mattress. Feeling his phone vibrate underneath him, he twisted himself in order to retrieve the device and answer the sweet message from his girl. Not paying attention to his hand, Rogers threw the phone next to him and closed his eyes, determined to rest for awhile. But no sooner had he closed his eyes than he opened them again, his body frozen on their common bed, the memory of his fingers typing his text jumping in front of his eyes. 

In a quick move, the detective sat up, staring at his right hand: it was still subtle, but the ends of his fingers were becoming transparent, revealing the bones under the skin. Rogers inhaled, flexing his fingers, rotating his hand as if it would make the anomaly disappear. Stressed, Rogers brought his palm to his face, screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. This couldn’t be happening; he was simply inventing things due to the late hour and the emotional charge from what had happened earlier to Old Hook. After a moment, Rogers let his hands slide along his face before he looked down at them once again. And the tips of his right fingers were still transparent. 

The panic finally took its toll and Rogers was running down the stairs, straight to the whiteboard.

OldHook : dead ?

Rogers : …

Rogers stared at his name being written down the board yet with no explanation of his condition. But the fact that his name was down was enough to steal his breath away until his lungs were in desperate need of oxygen. 

“No, no no no...This can’t be happening…” repeated Rogers as his body stayed frozen in front of the board. His eyes stung and each new inhalation burned his throat as his mind tried to escape the new nightmare. 

It was only when he heard the piercing cry of the young Killian that Rogers broke from his stupor. Finally leaving the board behind him, he sprinted to the next huge room. Quickly, he spotted the lad, who was sitting in a corner, shaking like a leaf. But the closer Rogers got to the lad, the more he thought the lad was fading away. He had barely dropped to his knees before Killian lifted his head, his face covered with tears, and voiced his fear to the man he considered his brother.

“I, I don’t want to die, R-Rogers!” Killian cried, his arms wrapped around himself as if he were afraid to touch anything around him.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, Killian; I’m here. You won’t die, I promise! You won’t die!” Rogers hurried to reassure young Killian, trying his best to catch the gaze of the boy in order to stop his panic attack. 

Things weren’t alright on any point. But if Dark Hook had left them without much precision about the whole situation, and the fact that Old Hook only seemed to be dead if you believed what was on the whiteboard, then they had to hope that what was happening couldn’t be that deadly. Could they, though? Rogers asked himself mentally while he was lost in his thoughts.

“But, but I’m- I’m not me anymore, brother!!” Killian whined, reaching for Rogers, who had concentrated back on the present before the lad stopped his movement.

“Killian, what is it?” asked Rogers, confused by Killian’s sudden hesitation.

“I… I don’t- When I tried to hold KillyCat, he- I couldn’t!” the boy explained between sobs, curling back in on himself.

“Okay. I’m sure it will be alright with me… Do you trust me, lad?” whispered Rogers, holding his left hand in front of him.

With a small nod, Killian hesitantly unwrapped one of his hands and slowly brought it to Rogers. To his surprise, it didn’t pass through it. A mix of emotions crashed down on the young boy, and he threw himself at Rogers, who tried his best to comfort the shaking boy in his arms while thanking any deity that made the contact possible for Killian if the boy truly hadn’t been able to hold the cat before.

Rogers rubbed his now-skeletal hand over the boy’s back. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m with you, Killian.”

And for what felt like a long moment, the two held themselves together. Rogers’ grounding presence was more or less calming the boy, while Killian’s distress was keeping at bay Rogers’ own panic attack over his unknown change. That is, until Rogers realized Killian’s body was transparent enough for him to see his own front. Slowly, Rogers felt Killian’s body fade against him. Seconds passed, and Rogers could feel Killian’s corporeal form melting under his arms, the feeling of hugging nothing becoming stronger. And all he could hear was the boy’s pleas to stay alive, to survive. How was he supposed to tell him that it was a matter of seconds before he would no longer be? How could things be fine?

In a final whisper, the young Killian finally vanished from existence and Rogers was left crying alone in the room that was now too big for him. His arms wrapped around his torso.

The man no longer cared for his life. He could turn into whatever monstrosity due to the curse cast over the coven; it would no longer matter.

Killian had just died in his arms and he didn’t know what to do.

The air thickened and Rogers felt like he was drowning; tears flowed freely from his eyes as he let his emotions crush him over the floor, letting his eyes close. 

He didn’t know how long he had been lying on his side on the cold floor, but he suddenly felt a freezing breeze seep beneath his clothes. Cracking open an eye, he caught sight of a ghostly form staring at him. Not knowing what else to do, Rogers feverishly sat up, taking a better look at the floating form in front of him. He couldn’t tell if it could see him or not, but the small ghost was staring in his direction as well, though his gaze was slightly unfocused. And suddenly, Rogers picked up on the familiar face.

The lad. It was the lad he thought he’d lost minutes ago. Could he see him? Hear him? Rogers stood up, his hand shaking as he tried to catch the attention of the boy.

“K-Killian?” Rogers’ voice was hoarse but it was enough to catch the boy’s eye.

“Bro...brother? You, you can see me??” murmured Killian; it was all his new form allowed him to do when he spoke. But Rogers didn’t move, continuing to stare at Killian. “Can you...can you hear me, brother?” Killian asked again. 

“Killian?!” Rogers gasped, his brain catching up with what the boy had just said. The lad quickly nodded, a watery smile creeping onto his face. “Oh Bloody hell! Killian!!” 

Jumping up from his spot on the floor, Rogers threw himself at the ghost version of Killian, relieved to know he wasn’t truly gone from this world. But neither of them expected Rogers to literally go through Killian and fall face-first on the floor behind the boy.

“Rogers! Are you okay??” Killian hovered over the detective, who was looking in front of him with wide eyes and rapid breaths.

“A-Aye l-lad,” answered the detective after catching his breath. He felt as if he’d just jumped into a pool filled with icy water, stealing his breath away. But he was fine. Cold to the bones, but it was better than the loss he’d felt when Killian had disappeared, if only for a few minutes.

Slowly, Rogers pushed himself up, vigorously rubbing his hands on his arms in hopes of warming himself faster. This time, Killian concentrated on not touching Rogers, or at least not enough to pass through him. His touch was still giving Rogers goosebumps, but it was bearable when light on his skin. 

They’d barely had the time to recover from the current situation when a terrifying yell echoed in the hall.

“KillyCat!!” Killian said, shocked, as he was already flying in the direction of the cat.

“Wha- Killian, wait!” Rogers exclaimed as he, too, ran after Killian.

When Rogers caught up to Killian, the boy was frowning, looking inside the empty room in front of him. There were no sounds, no movements, and Rogers started to believe they had imagined the yell of the cat, or that the little animal was already somewhere else, but then Killian shook his head and pointed in the direction of the closet.

“There’s something there, Rogers!” the lad declared.

“I- how can you be sure of that?” 

“Can’t you feel it?” the boy asked, as if it were the simplest thing to do. 

Rogers looked at Killian in disbelief before swallowing down his doubts and gathering his courage to go check the closet, as Killian couldn’t open it. Rogers had realized that when he had seen the boy’s hand going through the wall while he was focusing on the closet. So Rogers carefully approached the closet, followed by Killian. The moment the detective touched the handle, the door flew open and KillyCat charged at them, making the lad squeak as his furry friend passed through him and flew away. Rogers was now staring at the room exit, not believing what they’d just seen. The bloody cat was flying. He had somehow turned into some sort of bat...cat. 

“A bat-cat….He-he’s a bloody bat-cat!?” repeated Rogers while Killian searched for his other little friend.

“That’s not right; TinyHook is always with KillyCat!” exclaimed Killian, coming to stand in front of Rogers. “He must be somewhere! We have to find him!”.

_Did he not hear the part where I said “bat-cat”?!?_ thought Rogers as he looked with incredulous eyes at the ghost boy. But his state of shock was quickly replaced by determination.

“Aye, that we do. We need to find everyone…” Rogers agreed, knowing they would need to find all the others, and fast. He really didn’t like how things were evolving…

The two of them made quick work of checking the surrounding rooms, though they only managed to find TinyHook, who appeared to be his usual happy self and decided to join their search party, taking the important task as a game. An attitude that did not thrill Rogers much.

Minutes later, they stopped in front of the whiteboard, and a shiver ran down Rogers’ spine as he read the new additions:

Old Hook : decomposition

Killian : ghost

KillyCat : bat

TinyHook : ...

Rogers : …

L.J : …

DeckHand Hook : …

All of their names were written down the board. Well, almost all of them. Despite the horror of the statement, Rogers was glad to see that Jones and Dark Hook weren’t part of them yet. But it was now clear that whatever was happening, was affecting them all. Making it even more important to find the others in order to help them out, or at least to be able to know what to do with them. It appeared that, even if their names were added, the changes weren’t present enough yet to allow a precise description on the board. 

Rogers looked again at the names and what was about to follow them when he realized that the status of Old Hook had changed. “Decomposition”… It wasn’t making any sense, the detective thought. A corpse couldn’t just turn into a state of decomposition in such a short time. However, he couldn’t deny the description of their old mate once he decided to take a closer look at the man. 

He should go talk to Dark Hook, explain what was happening right now, ask the Dark One for answers. But Rogers also knew that said man wouldn’t be pleased to be disturbed for information he could certainly see on his own version of the whiteboard, or simply knew thanks to his magical abilities. So Rogers stayed where he was, looking at what he already had in front of his eyes and using his detective skills in order to find an answer.

“_TinyHook!... You can’t go!... Come back!_” 

Rogers frowned at the small voice of the lad, calling the tiny man back. He was about to go check the situation himself when the lad came to him, worry on his face.

“Brother! TinyHook just ran away outside! We had found KillyCat again and- and they just ran! I couldn’t do anything to stop them!” 

“Outside? But that... Alright, Killian. That’s okay” Rogers reassured him, trying to persuade the lad to calm down. “They’ll come back, ok? And at worst, Dark Hook made sure no one can leave the coven!” 

“Really?”

“Really, Killian. Now I need you to focus. We have to find Deckhand Hook and L.J.” 

“Okay! Umh… I think I saw L.J. around the kitchen not long ago!” exclaimed Killian, remembering he had seen someone in the room while chasing his little friends. 

“Good! Then let’s start there.”

The two of them walked toward the kitchen, finding the lieutenant stumbling in the corridor. Rogers reached his mate in a few quick jogs and grasped him by the shoulders. He was looking a bit green around the gills, an unusual seasickness plastered all over his face. Rogers smiled softly at his friend, who barely managed to smile back, his head falling forward instead.

“Wh-wh-whoa, mate. You okay?” 

“I- I-I don’t know, Rogers… I just-” He gasped, his hand coming in front of his mouth as his guts threatened to spill out. “Gosh… I- I don’t know what’s happening to me…” L.J. took a breath before closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall.

“Dark Hook is on it. We just need to give him time and he’ll find a cure, okay?” 

The lieutenant slowly nodded, cracking an eye open. 

“Until then, you have to rest, mate. Let’s find you a seat…” Rogers whispered before helping L.J. to walk into the kitchen and sit down on a chair.

Killian slowly followed them, smiling at L.J. when the man looked at him. Shock spread on the lieutenant’s face at the sight of the lad floating above the ground in ghost form. Killian thrust his thumbs up though, showing his brother he was all good. And it was enough for the lieutenant to go back into his ill state, his head aching as he started to feel his ears burn. While L.J. and the lad talked, Rogers had taken the opportunity to fill a glass of water and push it in front of the lieutenant, who now swallowed the water--in one mouthful, to Rogers’ surprise--before asking for more. _Well, water can’t hurt him_, Rogers thought to himself, refilling the glass and adding a full water pitcher on the table. Then he took a moment to collect himself against the counter, his brain still working around what was happening inside the coven. His mind was finally back to some sort of calm until he felt the cold touch of Killian on his arm. Opening his eyes, he looked at the lad, who was still patting his arm. His eyes were locked on L.J., who had his face hidden in his hands. 

“Do you feel something, lad?” Rogers asked softly, not wanting to disturb the mininap of his other brother.

“Mmh.” Killian shook his head, his finger now pointing at L.J.

“I..._bloody hell,_” whispered Rogers as his gaze finally found what Killian was trying to show him.

L.J. still had his face tucked in his palms, but it was now clear that his pointed ears were shifting, slowly taking a blue shade along with their new shape. Gone were the human ears, now replaced by some sort of sea creature ears, looking a bit like those of the merpeople. The lieutenant shifted a bit on his chair before turning his face to look at them, frowning as he stared at them.

“Mates? Wha-what is it?” he asked, his gaze jumping between the two shocked faces. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

But before either one of them could formulate some sort of answer that would not trigger panic, Deckhand Hook appeared at the door, his hand holding his throat while his left arm pressed against his head. Alarm awoke in Rogers’ guts as he looked at the two new additions to the chaotic situation of the coven. Not waiting any longer, Rogers moved toward Deckhand Hook, grabbing him by the elbow as he turned to look at Killian. The lad stared back at him anxiously, awaiting an explanation.

“Killian, you stay with L.J., okay? Take care of him; I’m going to help Deckhand Hook. Do not leave the kitchen alone, understood?” Rogers commanded. He looked at L.J., who had started to sob over his fate as he realised his ears had changed. 

The lieutenant was now staring at his hands as some sort of webbing was appearing between his fingers, though Rogers couldn’t be sure from the distance between them. If he was lucky, he might escape growing scales, mused Rogers as the lad nodded at him and moved toward the lieutenant. It was all Rogers needed and he took his friend with him along the corridor, heading for the main room where the whiteboard was located. He needed to know the current status of their changes before planning his next move. However, there was no new addition. He would have to make do with live-changes on themselves, as the board wasn’t more useful. Speaking of, when Rogers sat the disoriented Deckhand Hook on the sofa, he froze, staring at his shaking hand where the bones were now fully visible, the change going up to his elbow. Swallowing hard, Rogers tried to set the thought and growing panic aside in favor of his friend’s state. 

Just by his outward appearance, the deckhand hadn’t changed much; perhaps a little more pale than he used to be, but that could also be because of the white neon lighting of the room. On the other hand, the continuous shivering wasn’t good. And the man just kept mumbling words that Rogers couldn’t understand, even in the calm room. It could be the reason why Deckhand Hook was leaving his hand around his throat. So Rogers tried to keep asking him questions, trying to know where it hurt, how he felt. But all the detective could conclude was that his throat and head were hurting like a bitch and that he was potentially freezing. Grabbing a warm plaid, Rogers wrapped the fabric around Deckhand Hook’s body and started rubbing his hand up and down his friend’s arms. His task was interrupted several times by the back and forth of TinyHook riding KillyCat, who kept flying too close to their heads, threatening to chop them off. 

Even though Rogers tried to remain calm, the excess of panic inside his body pushed him to his limits, and the moment the two insufferable creatures came back, the detective left his post and ran after the flying duo, screaming at them until they were once again out of the buildings, their laughter echoing in the night. Rogers let out a deep sigh as he turned on his heels and walked back inside. He passed in front of the board before sitting back down beside Deckhand Hook, who was now curled in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his head. 

Rogers tried to talk to the man, his skeleton hand gently tugging on the pair of arms, but Deckhand Hook was too strong for him. Closing his eyes, Rogers sat back and tried to think of a plan. His mind brought him back to the board: the inscriptions had changed again. Jumping from the sofa, Rogers ran to the board. His eyes widened at the change and he sprinted to Deckhand Hook’s side once again.

“Come on, mate! We’ve got to go! Hook!!” Rogers yelled, throwing off the plaid, his arms pulling Deckhand Hook’s shoulders toward himself. 

Stumbling to his feet, Deckhand Hook gasped and opened his eyes, scanning the room in front of him as his nose was overwhelmed by the strong copper smell of blood. Rogers was already hurrying outside the room. But all Deckhand Hook could do was to look for the source of the blood smell. Was someone hurt? Was he hurt?? But the more they walked through the coven, the more he realized the smell was coming from Rogers. The man was talking to him, but all Killian could hear, could think was _Blood_.

“-have to stay with me, mate! Stay with me, Killian!” Rogers said for the thousandth time since they had started walking. Deckhand Hook hadn’t said a word, and it was starting to worry him.

“R-Rogers I…” Deckhand Hook tried to speak. His throat felt parched.

“Killian? What is it? Killian, please tell me!” Rogers urged, slowing their pace until they came to a stop. Deckhand Hook could only stare at their feet, his body back at shaking.

“I-I n-need…”

“What you need, mate?” 

“I...need...I-” But his voice kept getting stuck as his need became more and more overwhelming. Hook saw Rogers stepping closer and there was only one thing that invaded his body and mind. “_Blood_,” he breathed.

From the moment the word was out, Deckhand Hook’s behavior was driven by that very need. And Rogers knew it. Without a second thought, he grabbed his friend by the hook, not waiting to see if he was going to follow or not, and ran down the last corridor that led to Dark Hook’s lab. The detective brutally kicked the old door open, barreling into the personal space of the Dark One, who had snapped his eyes away from his work, his gaze riveted on the two intruders. They were both panting, though from two very different reasons. 

“Hook! You’ve got to do something! NOW!” screamed Rogers, pointing at the deckhand.

But Dark Hook kept his eyes on Rogers without saying a word, while behind them, a deep and menacing growl escaped Deckhand Hook’s chest. Rogers’ eyes desperately pleaded for Dark Hook to do something before the deckhand’s change was complete. Having a bloodthirsty vampire rampaging through the coven was the last thing they needed.

_Please_, mouthed the detective to the still-immobile wizard. Time seemed to freeze between the two Hooks before the third one jumped on Rogers with a supernatural speed. Deckhand Hook tackled the detective to the ground, but somehow, he managed to stop himself from going further in his hunt. Rogers’ hands came to rest around Deckhand Hook’s throat in hopes of restraining him from biting his neck, or any other part of himself that hadn’t turned into a bloody skeleton yet. Rogers tried to scream for help, but the strong grip Deckhand Hook had on his neck prevented him from doing anything. Tears pooled in his eyes as his vision darkened around the edges. And in his usual style, Dark Hook finally made his move. In a swift movement, he was behind Deckhand Hook, his hand grabbing a small leather flask, which glowed briefly before it was pushed against Deckhand Hook’s mouth. The man let go of his prey in favor of the new assailant; the memory of a very similar scene flashed back through his mind. But thankfully, Dark Hook managed to hold on, grunting as the deckhand slammed them against the nearest wall. 

“Just drink, you fool!” Dark Hook swore and used his magical power to force some of the liquid into Deckhand Hook’s mouth.

The deckhand grunted, but the moment the new liquor hit his tongue, he sagged against Dark Hook, his hand frantically reaching for the flask so he could drink the blood it now contained. Dark Hook let go of the man and turned his attention to the detective, who was still on the floor, his hand massaging his throat.

The Dark One held his hand out to the detective. “You alright there?” 

“Aye...” Rogers croaked, though he hesitated to use his skeleton hand.

“Don’t worry about that,” Dark Hook announced, nodding toward the hand. “I’m almost done. I just need a little bit more time before the antidote is ready.” 

“G-good to know. But, fuck, why are you waiting for one of us to almost die to do something?!?” Rogers exclaimed, a bit offended by the behavior.

The other man only scoffed before turning back to his work. Right at that moment, Deckhand Hook gasped, breathing heavily as he looked at Rogers in shame.

“I- I’m sorry, Rogers...I couldn’t- it was too hard to stop.” 

“It’s okay,” Rogers waved him off with a smile. “But don’t do that again…”

“He won’t; I enchanted his flask so it could provide him an unlimited amount of blood,” promised Dark Hook, yet he was still fully focused on his potion making.

“Good to know!” Deckhand Hook chirped. Happily, he took another swing of the red liquid.

Rogers rolled his eyes at the reaction, then inspected his own transformation. So far, the bones were only visible past his elbows, but he hadn’t taken a moment to look at himself in a mirror. If things were this bad, who was to say that he wouldn’t end up completely transparent by the morning? The thought terrified him. Everything was messing with his emotions and all he wanted to do was to sit somewhere and let all the tension roll down his shoulders, leaving him at peace. But clearly, that was too much to ask.

For his part, Deckhand Hook took another sip of blood, relishing the effect of the beverage on his sore throat and demanding stomach. He also enjoyed the fact that he could now focus on something other than the need for food. He took a moment to take a better look at the room, how Dark Hook was holding his head while making his potion, the poor detective that was half-resting on a chair and--

Hook’s thoughts stopped as he realised what he’d just seen. Turning his attention back on Dark Hook, he realised that the man wasn’t just holding his head. Frowning, Hook took a better look at the Dark One’s face to see that each side of his forehead had started to crack, revealing some sort of dark material that was slowly growing out of his skull. The deckhand put his flask down, moved to Rogers' side, and poked his shoulder to get his attention.

“Yeah?” asked Rogers, clearly exhausted.

“Mate. Look.” Deackhand Hook swallowed his fear and declared,“I, I don’t think that is supposed to happen…” 

“What the- Hook?” The detective’s eyes widened as he saw Dark Hook shiver, the two pointy things now identifiable.

Right in front of their eyes, Dark Hook was slowly morphing into something else. Two burgundy horns had sprouted right under his hairline, and now, his whole body shook as new details started to appear: the same elfish-pointy-ears as L.J., and what looked like a thin tail that waved under his heavy leather coat. Taken aback, Rogers and Deckhand Hook looked at each other before springing into action. Deckhand Hook quickly ran to the Dark One in order to push him away from the essential potion, while Rogers took a look at the board, watching for what was happening to their friend.

But all Dark Hook could think of at that moment was the raging fire that was spreading through his body, making everything feel numb under his scorching touch. And, as if the physical pain weren’t enough, he could feel some of his body being rearranged into whatever monstrosity he was becoming. In addition to that was the incessant voices, screaming in his ears, right inside his mind, and it was just too much for Hook to keep to himself.

Tugging himself free from Deckhand Hook’s strong grip, Dark Hook fell to the floor, his hand gripping his hair as he let his pain out. Deckhand Hook felt the heat coming from Dark Hook’s body and quickly moved away. As he did, he spotted the way his friend’s usual white skin started to take on a reddish color.

“Rogers! I don’t think we should stay here any longer!”

“Aye! The board isn’t working anymore! We should-!”

Rogers’ voice was cut off as Deckhand Hook grabbed his friend with his vampiric speed, taking them out of the room and far enough away to escape to the sudden explosion and fire that engulfed the lab, as well as half of the nearest corridor. 

“I-what was that?!?” asked Rogers, panicked yet still confused by the fast displacement courtesy of Deckhand Hook.

“I don’t know, mate, but I don’t wish to know.” Deckhand Hook took hold of his friend and helped him to stand.

“Let’s hope the potion wasn’t damaged...and I... thank you, Killian.”

“Anytime!”

The two men stayed where they were, their gazes fixed on the burnt walls and door, though the lab seemed to have already started reconstructing itself. Somehow, Rogers wasn’t even worried for Dark Hook’s life. If the young lad had survived his ghostly transformation, surely Dark Hook would be fine.

The clock struck midnight as Rogers entered the common room that was near their only remaining board, where all the names were now listed. The man sighed, letting his body fall on the comfy chair before his eyelids closed and sleep embraced him in its warmth. 

Unfortunately for the detective, his rest was quickly interrupted by the mini tornado that KillyCat had become while TinyHook rode on his back, his skin now blue, with an additional pair of pixie wings attached to his back. The two mini-monsters made quick work of putting all the tension back in Rogers, who tried his best to get rid of them and their trickeries. But what made Rogers boil with anger was to see the deckhand sitting on the opposite sofa, drinking his damn blood, while doing strictly _nothing _to help him. If anything, he was making TinyHook enjoy his bloody games even more.

In the nearby bathroom, the young boy was still trying to handle the lieutenant, who was still worried about his good looks and good form instead of focusing on surviving. Because, soon enough, the two realized that it was now impossible for L.J. to breathe normally. The man needed to have his face completely immersed in water, or enough body parts under water, at least. Which ended up being complicated for the lad since he couldn’t touch anything solid; his only resource was his ability to talk... and perhaps he eventually did use the freezing effect he had when he touched a living body. It was a true relief to see Rogers coming to check on them, as Killian was starting to get bored of repeating the same thing to his brother so he would stay in the bathtub.

“Rogers!!” squeaked Killian, coming to rest next to him for some sort of hug.

“Hey lad. How is it going here?”

“Well L.J. is-”

“How is it going? How is IT?? Let me tell you how it is!” interrupted the lieutenant. Water flooded the floor as he rose up within the tub. 

“Wow, mate, no need to-”

“Oh no! You don’t get to tell me anything! Do you know how it is to be stuck here??” L.J. waved at his transformed body emphatically.

Rogers didn’t dare to say anything, letting the lad pull him a little ways outside the room while the other man kept screaming at them, ranting about his problem and restating everything the lad knew by heart at this point.

“Rogers, did Popa find a cure? Because I really love L.J., but I want to go play with the others like before…” The lad pouted, feeling guilty for not wanting to help his brother anymore, but he just wanted to live like before.

“Oh Killian, don’t worry; Hook did find a cure, he’s….he’s just testing it before it can be used!” Rogers quickly explained to the lad what just happened to them in the lab before it exploded, his hand coming to brush the ghostly hair of the boy. “But until then, I need you to stay safe, and-”

“But brother!! I am safe! I can’t touch anything and nothing can touch me back! Why must I stay here?”

“Killian, it’s not that simple; I wish I could let you play around, but we can’t!”

“But why?” whined the boy.

“Because! Now stop arguing and stay here!” Rogers ordered, his voice firm as the lad frowned back at him, feeling betrayed. But Rogers couldn’t let the lad wander around, whether he liked it or not.

“Are any of you listening to me??” yelled L.J., catching the attention of the two Hooks again. But he wasn’t prepared for Rogers’ response.

“You! Just shut up! I already have too many bloody things to manage in this bloody house! So for god’s sake, just shut your damn mouth and stay with the lad!”

The detective pointed at the bathroom for the boy to go back in before slamming the door shut and walking away. At the first intersection, he came to face the wall, resting his forehead on the cold surface. He’d behaved like an asshole, and he hated that it was all due to the constant tension rolling through his body. With a deep groan, Rogers slammed his right fist against the brick, and the sound of broken bone resonated in the empty corridor. For the next few minutes, he tried to calm his breathing, the pain not even pulsing in his skeleton hand. Soon enough, his irritation faded away as a new noise started to echo in the corridor. Slowly pivoting his head to his right, Rogers cracked an eye open and frowned at the form that was moving in his direction. His vision focused on the form that was now fully standing. Dragging himself along the floor, Old Hook was slowly but surely heading for Rogers.

“Oh bloody hell...” Rogers gasped, starting to walk backward. The man was clearly alive, yet he looked like a simple breeze could tear his body apart. “You couldn’t have been something other than a zombie?!”

The old man only grunted before somehow accelerating his pace. Rogers cursed and turned on his heels in order to run away from the man. He already had two skeleton arms; no need to be turned into a zombie. 

When Rogers had managed to outrun Old Hook, he took a moment to catch his breath, his gaze scanning to the end of the hall for any sign of the undead Hook. 

“What’s the rush, mate?” a high pitched voice echoed behind his shoulders.

“What? You! Get the hell out of here!” Rogers growled at the sight of the blue pixie that was looking at him with an evil grin on his face. The bastard clearly knew what was going on, judging by how KillyCat kept looking behind them.

“You’re turning into a skeleton anyway, mate!” said TinyHook nonchalantly. Then he was off through the air, disappearing at the same time as Old Hook staggered back into view.

Rogers cringed at the view of the man, searching for a new hiding place. He had just taken off running when he passed by the full-size mirror of one of the rooms. Stopping his race, Rogers entered the room and came closer to the mirror. His hand flew to his mouth as he saw his reflection. 

His arms were now fully transparent, just like his hand, but what panicked the detective the most was the fact that the skin on his face was now slowly fading away, revealing his skull underneath. He wished he hadn’t dared to lift his shirt in order to see if the same fading was spreading all over his body. But it was, and when he caught the reflection of OldHook in the mirror, Rogers thought it would be the end of him before Dark Hook could even save them.

Meanwhile, in Storybrooke, Killian hadn’t been able to close his eyes since they went home after the giant trick-or-treat party in the streets of the not-so-small town. For some reason, Killian knew something wasn’t exactly alright at the Coven. So he gently slipped away from Emma’s arms, kissing her cheek before he quietly made his way out of the house. It would be just a quick hello, just to make sure everything was alright, he kept telling himself on his way to the mansion. But he never thought his Halloween night would be prolonged…

As a matter of fact, he had barely opened the main door before he was met by the hell that was now reigning inside the house. He took unsure steps into the hallway leading to the biggest living room, concerned by the sounds he could hear. Loud crashing, shouts, sometimes screams. A shiver ran down his spine as he finally saw the scene in front of him.

“What the _Hell_??” Killian exclaimed, dodging what seemed like a big bird.

The more the pirate looked at the room in front of him, the more he realized they might just be having a little bit too much fun. After all, they had every right to throw a party for Halloween, even if he wasn’t with them! A chuckle escaped his mouth before his eyes landed on Rogers. The man seemed bored as hell, judging by his posture, but damn, Killian had to say, the skeleton disguise rocked. 

“Oi mate! What’s going on here? I never thought you would have so much….umh fun...” Killian’s voice and joyful mood both dropped the second he spotted Old Hook chewing Rogers’ arm “...for Halloween...the heck?” 

Jones finally understood what wasn’t right. All of this chaos wasn’t looking like a big party anymore. His mates weren’t just throwing a big, creepy Halloween party. Clenching his jaw, Killian stared back at Rogers, who was looking quite shocked by his presence. 

“‘Fun’ isn’t the word, Jones. Though, you were right on the ‘Hell’ side,” the detective corrected. He waited for Killian to look around before continuing his explanation of the situation to the newcomer. However, Old Hook had another preoccupation; it was clear he was liking the taste of Rogers’ arms. “Damn it, Hook! Stop doing that!!” 

Rogers irritably poked the old zombie’s head, and the creature grumbled in response before tugging even more at the arm, and Rogers just sighed deeply. He hadn’t been able to free himself from Old Hook’s grasp yet.

“Care to explain?” enquired Killian, quite disturbed by the sight of the oldest Hook.

“If I can make it short, this one, here, was dead, but then Dark Hook said something was off, and after hours we ended up all doomed and... hold on- why are _you _here??” Sudden panic spread across Rogers’ face. “You shouldn’t have come, Jones! You’ve got to go!!”

“I- but why?”

“Everyone here is cursed!” the detective exclaimed. “You have to run while you can!”

He tried to stand up so he could push his friend away, but Jones was not being so cooperative to leave the coven and save his own ass. Rogers continued pleading with him to just go, until Dark Hook made his way into the room. Everyone seemed to freeze at the new appearance of the Dark One, some of the Hooks gasping in surprise. A demonic look was the closest thing Jones could think of to describe his friend. His skin seemed burned, the red color of his skin being the same as his irises, where the blue had totally disappeared. Two horns were sticking out of his forehead, and Jones was certain he saw some sort of snake-head tail peeking out from underneath the destroyed leather coat. The demon-man didn’t seem to even realize that Jones was there as he held a shining blue potion in the air, a dark grin spreading across his face.

“Alright, it’s time to- Jones? The HELL are you doing here?” Dark Hook’s pride turned into anger as he saw Jones still standing next to Rogers. 

The said man swallowed as he realized Dark Hook was about to kick his ass out of the place, and it wasn’t something he was looking forward to. But before he could explain himself, the pixie he had spotted earlier dove at Dark Hook, stealing the precious vial from him, then laughing as he flew away with KillyCat close by. Dark Hook reacted immediately, a fire ball forming in his palm as he ran after the evil creature.

“I’m going to kill you, you son of bitch!” he yelled, his voice disappearing down the hallway. A loud crash resonated as the first fire ball was thrown. 

By this time, Killian had understood the danger of the place and why Rogers had so desperately wanted him to go. This wasn’t being a coward; this was surviving. Promising he would come back, Jones started to jog away, taking another path to leave the house, as Dark Hook was wreaking havoc. But he’d barely managed to reach the end of the first corridor before his head spun, sending him to the floor, panting while he wondered what was happening.

With Rogers stuck with Old Hook, the young Killian was now freely wandering in the coven, looking for a way to help Dark Hook catch Tiny Hook and KillyCat. He liked his friend, but TinyHook had become too unpleasant and it wasn’t funny anymore. So the boy was floating down the corridors, jumping a little each time Dark Hook tried to throw something at TinyHook. But of all the Hooks, he was the least panicked. Though Deckhand Hook seemed pretty calm too; unless Rogers or L.J. found a way to break the deckhand’s peaceful bloody drinking. The thought disgusted the boy... but the sight of Jones’s body on the floor truly startled him. 

The man was curled in on himself, sobbing, his body shaking. And all Killian could think was that the man was suffering from a panic attack and that he might need some help. So the lad hovered over Jones, murmuring comforting words and gently trying to stroke his back without frightening him with his cold touch. But he wasn’t ready to be chased by Killian’s hooked arm as a deep growl escaped his throat. The young Killian quickly flew away from Jones, who kept making deep sounds, mixed with whimpers as his back arched, his shirt ripping apart as more massive muscles built under his skin. In front of the horrific scene, the lad quickly hid his face in his hands, not wanting to see a full werewolf transformation. To his surprise, once Jones had stopped crying under the painful shifting, Killian risked opening his eyes again, only to see the adult staring at him with some sort of genuine curiosity. Right in front of him, well, there was no wolf. 

Killian studied Jones, taking in the changes: he was definitely taller and bigger, the remnants of his shirt lay on the floor along with some part of his pants. His hand was now armed with big claws instead of the former nails, and the same could be said of his feet. His hair, beard and chest hair had grown thicker; his arms, hands and feet were now covered with dark hair--Killian didn’t know if it wasn’t more fur, though-- with the addition of two large wolf ears on each side of his head and the fluffy tail that had sprouted through his navy underwear. While Killian stayed focused on the different changes, Jones started to come closer to the boy, sniffing him as if he might be good enough to eat.Though the ghost didn’t catch his attention for long, and he was soon walking toward the main room where the rest of the Hooks were waiting, his predatory instinct kicking in.

“_Crap_,” Killian cursed, hastening to go alert the others.

But Jones had already started to growl as his stance became even more menacing. His pointy teeth were ready to bite his first prey as the new werewolf started to salivate at the idea of eating something. Young Killian didn’t think much and quickly flew toward Rogers, waving at Jones.

“Hey! Over here, brother! Look at that! I’m sure it’s better than meat!” Killian screamed as loudly as he could. Dogs loved bones, right? Surely Killian would like them.

“What? Killian, what are you doing?!?” Rogers’ voice was high pitched with panic as he glanced between the ghost still waving in his direction and the werewolf that was now walking toward him, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Jones! No no no! Just go away! Be nice and just- NO- Aaaah!!” 

Rogers’ scream echoed as Jones launched himself at his left hand, tugging at the bones until it could separate itself from the arm. All while Rogers tried to get away from the two Hooks that were fighting over him as if he was just some piece of meat. Technically he was, but the detective refused to give up. 

Finally freeing the hand from its owner, Jones growled at Old Hook before trotting away so he could chew his new toy in peace, leaving Rogers to deal with his panic of his recent loss. 

And while all the Hooks dealt with the problems of the new addition, the stolen cure, and who-knew-what else, Deckhand Hook was sitting in a dark corner, his flask glued to his lips. He tried to stop, he really did, but the taste was addictive and he couldn’t stop himself. Not until Jones spotted him in his hideout and let go of the hand, his attention caught by the vampire. If not all the stories about werewolf and vampire correctly related the incessant fight between the two supernatural species, right here, it wasn’t an exception. Thus, as soon as Jones sniffed the smell of the vampire, his posture changed so he could prepare to attack the man the next second. 

“Hey! Good boy! You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Jones?” Deckhand Hook held his hands up placatingly, trying to befriend the werewolf and hoping he could avoid a fight he wasn’t sure he could win. 

But it only made Jones growl at him harder.

“Come on, mate. You know I don’t want to fight! I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” the deckhand mumbled.

To no avail as Jones lunged at him, his jaws closing on nothing as Hook moved fast enough to avoid the werewolf. It was now Jones that was stuck against the wall, but it didn’t mean that Hook was free, either. Or perhaps he was. Quickly, the deckhand grabbed the left hand of Rogers, his mouth twisting in disgust as he realized the glove was dripping. The thick drool coated his hand. Taking a deep breath, Hook sent a quick prayer that his plan would work. A feral noise reached his ears as Jones readied himself once more to attack him.

“Jones! Hey! Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy? Yeah? There! Go fetch, lad!”

Deckhand Hook opened the French door on his left and threw the glove outside, far enough to hopefully have the time to close the door behind Jones. The wolf-man’s gaze followed the object through the air, his ears flattening while the rest of his body became rigid. The moment the glove hit the grass somewhere in the garden, the werewolf barked and took a sprint outside to collect his toy. Deckhand Hook sighed in relief and closed the door, though when Jones came back with the hand in his mouth, his tail wiggling happily, Hook found himself melting in front of the cuteness of the werewolf. 

“I guess you really are a good boy, right, mate?” Deckhand Hook chuckled; Jones, still barking, dropped the glove for Hook to take again.

Shaking his head, Hook reopened the door and stepped outside, giving in into the fetching game.

One hour later, half the coven was burned or destroyed, its walls black from the fireballs that Dark Hook had thrown in his attempts to catch the tiny man. They were currently battling in the hall, TinyHook and Dark Hook panting from the effort, while KillyCat had dropped the idea of helping his flying friend and was instead playing with the snake-head tail of Dark Hook, which appeared to have its own free will. The vial was sitting at the top of the chandelier, dangerously tilting each time Tiny Hook avoided a magic attack from Dark Hook, who had to pay attention to three things at the time. But finally, the fight reached its end when Dark Hook successfully threw a fireball at TinyHook. The littlest Hook took the full blast before falling on the floor, his blue skin now black as the two antennae smoked a bit until the last flame died out. Dark Hook laughed at his victory, but then his attention was caught by the falling vial that, just in time, he managed to rescue with his magic. With the potion now back in his possession, Dark Hook huffed at the state of the room. The coven really needed magical repair if they wanted to be able to continue living inside.

A yelp escaped Hook’s mouth as he turned to see KillyCat biting at his snake tail, his little claws hitting his prey. Grunting, Dark Hook grabbed the cat by the scruff of his neck, not caring about the little screams the small animal was making. Sticking the blue collar of the cat on his hook, Dark Hook grabbed the vial and forced it in KillyCat’s mouth, making sure the pet would drink enough potion. Once done, he let go of the cat, who started coughing, his pink tongue dangling from his mouth. 

The next one on the list was TinyHook, who lay still on the floor, coughing a bit of smoke. Dark Hook pushed him into a sitting position before forcing the potion down his throat.

The two bloody nuisances down, Dark Hook made his way to the living room, a bit shocked at the view of the current activities: Rogers had somehow fallen asleep on the floor, his back resting against the sofa while Old Hook clung to his arm, still sucking the bones. Deckhand Hook was petting Jones’s head as the werewolf brought back the left hand of Rogers for the thousandth time since they’d started to play together. As for the young lad, he was floating cross-legged, boredom all over his face as he stared mindlessly at the others. And there was the voice of the lieutenant echoing nearby; the man was clearly pissed off to be left bloody well alone in the bathroom.

With a deep sigh, Dark Hook started to make his tour around, making sure every Hook had drunk a bit of the antidote; some were more cooperative than others. Once everyone had drunk the potion, Dark Hook took the last mouthful of the vial before a powerful wave of magic exploded around the Coven.

Once the magic had disappeared, every Hook gasped at the change it had produced. Everyone was back to his normal appearance, the white board now empty. Though the return to normal wasn’t the same for everyone: L.J.’s head broke out the water, and he sputtered and gasped as he found he couldn’t breathe underwater anymore, though the panic was quickly replaced by utter joy at the sight of his reflection. The young lad landed on his ass, closing his eyes in a wince before he realized he was back to being a normal boy. He screamed in joy, running to hug the first Hook that was next to him. While Deckhand Hook, who had drunk blood again, spit it out as fast as he could with a deep grunt.

“Bloody Hell! I- damn! My mouth just tastes like copper!! Hook! Give me water! Gosh, I’m never drinking that stuff again!!” he screamed, running into the kitchen to find something to chase away the blood taste.

Both Old Hook and Jones let go of what they were chewing. As Old Hook showered Rogers with apologies and wiped off the drool he had left on the detective, Jones tried to clean his tongue with his hand as he cursed his lack of clothes, among other complaints. KillyCat and Tiny Hook appeared in the room, coming to apologize to Dark Hook, who lectured them but then explained he couldn't truly be mad at them. After all, it was because of whatever curse had fallen on the coven that night. 

Suddenly, the happy reactions were interrupted by the strident scream of Rogers. All heads swiveled in the direction of the detective, who was grabbing his left arm, tears wetting his face as he yelled again.

“I’M FUCKING BLEEDIIING!!” Rogers panicked.

Dark Hook hastened himself, grabbing the missing left hand that was bleeding on the floor in front of Jones before re-attaching it to Rogers’ arm, then taking the sobbing detective in his arms. Calm settled into the room and sleep engulfed every Hook’s head, their yawns echoing. Not waiting any longer, Dark Hook used his magic to clean and repair the major areas of damage to the Coven. He never let go of the detective, who was still shaking, wetting Dark Hook’s shoulder with his tears. 

Ten minutes later, the Coven was back to its usual peace, as if nothing had happened during Halloween. Each Hook clearly wished to forget about the night, and made a promise to never celebrate the evil night again.

However, as they all slept in their big and warm bed, TinyHook started to move in his sleep, declaring in his little devil voice that he had switched the potion, taking a half-healing one instead of the full and permanent one that DarkHook had brewed. Then he laughed and was back to sleeping peacefully. But right after the silence was back, all eight Hooks had their eyes open, not daring to move a single muscle as their bodies tensed at what they’d just heard.

Because, _bloody hell_, he had to be kidding... right?


End file.
